I just want to read. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to write. I only want to read. Let the pages turn, like Metallica’s Lars Ulrich sings. I don’t want to do anything else. I’m under too much pressure. I only want to read, in a comfy bed I’ve made. Sheets that are cozy flannel. A duvet that is heavy with blankets on top. Just let me be warm and content. I’d go outside, if it was twenty-five degrees. But now it’s winter. I’ll stay in my nest. I won’t fall asleep. The book has me enthralled. I’ll stay here with my pillows, all twelve of them. I will read to escape. A book that doesn’t make me wonder. Just words that mean what they mean. And are a hide away. It’s good to have something greater in the big picture. But in the book I read, I want to drift away. Love and Sex. A Mysterious Horror. Blood and Broken Hearts. Action and Sexyiness. Affection and Friendship. No Tears please. Take me away. Let me read. Let the time spin by. I’m in my bed. I’m reading each word with greed. Catch me another day. Today, I’m reading. Today I’m carefree.
©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.